Old Rabbits Die Hard
by Weavillain
Summary: Lincoln Loud thinks he has the perfect solution to help his son sleep in his own bed. Features (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne)


With the expected exception of teenagers breaking their curfews or talking to their significant others over the phone and jacking up their parent's phone bills, by two-thirty in the morning, mostly everyone else in Royal Woods was asleep.

Lincoln Loud always appreciated a good night's sleep. It had been long ago since he lived with his parents and his ten sisters under the same roof and with his sibling's eccentric personalities and habits, he was hard pressed to remember a time where he could go a full week in blissful, uninterrupted slumber.

Now, at the age of thirty-two, the only thing that somewhat kept him awake at night was the light snoring off his wife, Ronnie Anne. He didn't mind, though. Being close to the woman he loved was something he'd walk barefoot on a bed of hot coals for. Enduring a few minutes of restlessness was a small price to pay for that.

However, on this night, as he laid in his bed asleep, just a few scoots away from snuggling into his wife completely, a diminutive "intruder" found his way into his bedroom, pushing the door aside as quietly as possible despite the light creaking making total silence impossible. Said "intruder" did his best to sneak underneath the large sheet covering the Loud couple without stirring them into consciousness.

He was almost successful in submerging himself in the warmth that the comforter had to offer, as well as the patrons occupying the bed he was stealthily infiltrating, but despite all of his past failed attempts of pulling this off, he never took into account how light of a sleeper Lincoln Loud was and was taken aback when the part of the blanket, that he managed to successfully, cover himself with, was yanked abruptly from on top of him, revealing a slightly perturbed Lincoln staring down at him expectantly.

"Hehehehe…hi, Daddy," the fairly skinned boy greeted apprehensively and quietly, along with a sheepish smile that he was hoping would pacify his slightly irritated father.

Lincoln turned to his wife and thanked the heavens that she was still asleep. She was thankfully a heavy sleeper and Lincoln knew that he was perhaps being slightly paranoid by worrying but waking up Ronnie Anne out of her slumber was not an experience he ever wanted to be at the brunt of. Even if the reason was their son sneaking into their bed…

 _'Again,'_ thought Lincoln to himself as he rubbed at his eyes to fight back the bleariness that kept him from seeing completely straight, now clearly being able to separate the darkness of his room with his son's black hair. The moonlight shining through the sole bedroom window also helped.

He would still rather avoid any possible confrontations with a sleep-deprived Ronnie Anne, especially one that just dealt with a long day at the office bustling about as a secretary at her law firm.

He faced his son again, whom by now, was sitting cross-legged in front of him, twiddling his forefingers together nervously as he looked away at the wall to his right.

"Manny?" Lincoln asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. "Manny, what're you doing here so early in the morning? You should be in bed, son. Your bed."

Manny immediately looked at his father in the eye when he heard of his father's unreasonable request.

"I can't," he insisted, crawling towards his dad and grabbing on his arm for purchase, as if the source of his anxiety would rip him right from out of the security of his home and into the abyss. Lincoln noted his son's fear and eased him into an embrace, wrapping his arms around him but doing so while sitting up from where he was sleeping. Since Lincoln was in nothing but his plaid boxers, he could feel his son's body heat rather well.

"Oh? And why's that?" Lincoln questioned, again, figuring that he knew the answer if the last several times of this similar incident happening was any indication.

"I'm too scared to sleep by myself," Manny responded quickly and dutifully.

Lincoln sighed. He thought as much. Manny was usually a well-behaved boy but sneaking into him and Ronnie Anne's bed was something that he constantly did against their wishes. He and Ronnie Anne both knew that Manny was going to have to learn to manage to sleep in his own bed but no matter how many times they insisted that he sleep by himself, he'd almost always find his way into their bed by the time they woke up the next morning.

"Manny, you know your mother and I love you very much but you're six years old. You're a big boy. You can't always keep running to us every time you have feel afraid. You gotta learn to sleep in your own bed," Lincoln lightly admonished, having no anger or annoyance to his plea but enough firmness to let Manny know that this behavior wasn't going to be acceptable.

The boy, like always, didn't seem to think that this arrangement was just at all.

"That's not fair, though," Manny huffed with folded arms and puffed cheeks, "You get to sleep with Mommy all the time and you're bigger than me. I'm always alone."

Lincoln chuckled and began to soothingly stroke his son's hair. It had been a while since he tried using that card on them but if his father had taught him anything about being the man of the house, it was to always be prepared.

"Manny, I've already told you, that's different. Moms and Dads always sleep in the same bed. Besides, I can always sleep by myself without a problem whenever your mother kicks me out of the bed and has me sleep on the couch," Lincoln said confidently, though having to rely on the memories of his wife being steaming mad at him enough to ban him from the bed wasn't exactly pleasant, especially the last time it happened.

Almost clairvoyantly, Manny asked, "By the way, what did you do to make her angry enough to do that to you the last time? I never wanna get Mommy that mad."

Once again, Lincoln looked back at his snoozing wife, still grateful for the fact that they were quiet enough not to rouse her from her rest.

As he gazed at her peaceful visage, namely at her face, he recalled what took place merely a few days ago that had him banished to the living room couch.

"Well, son, let's just say that when you see the sticky notes on the leftovers that say that certain food is for her, you respect the sticky note. ALWAYS."

That was the last time he would think that he could get away with having even one of the five churros she left in the fridge for her own pleasure.

He shook himself out of that unpleasant memory to get back to the matter at hand.

"But enough of that. Time to march off to bed, little trooper," Lincoln demanded affectionately, calling Manny a "little trooper" from the fact that he was wearing pajamas with his favorite superhero, Col. Comet, plastered all over them.

"But I…I can't," Manny protested timidly, "It's too scary being all alone by myself. My nightlight doesn't help, either."

Lincoln groaned under his breath. He couldn't help but wonder if he was like this at Manny's age. Sure, he remembered that he'd do the same thing his son did but as often? He couldn't imagine so.

Besides, once his parents had bought him Bun-Bun…

Bun-Bun…

Lincoln facepalmed at how he missed the mark. Of course! Why didn't he think of him before? Lincoln was almost positive that he had him stowed away right where he left him when they moved into their current home nearly seven years ago.

Unbeknownst to Ronnie Anne, Lincoln had been keeping Bun-Bun with him ever since he moved out of his parent's house when he left for college. Call it a comfort thing but he had plenty of good memories with his beloved bunny, too many to let him fall to the wayside.

Gingerly sliding both him and Manny out of bed, Lincoln placed him on the floor to stand and motioned for him to stay there.

"You know what? Wait right here. I think I have something that should help you out."

Since Lincoln was sleeping the nearest to the bedroom closet, reaching there didn't require him to move about too much and increase the risk of waking Ronnie Anne up. Sliding the closest door open, Lincoln trained his eyes through the darkness of the dim, enclosed space to reach back into the corner and feel about for a familiar box that hid away his childhood memento.

When he could feel his fingers brush up against what he thought to be the toy, Lincoln snatched it up and reorganized the boxes back to where he had left them to the best of his ability. He slid the door back and headed back to his son and proudly held out Bun-Bun for him to hold.

"Here you go, son."

Manny looked over the toy incredulously. It didn't look all that impressive. Part of the ear seemed to halfway torn off the head and the orange shirt was plastered with a palette of tiny stains of various colors.

And even if it was in great condition, how on Earth was it supposed to help him?

"What's this?" Manny asked, finally taking the bunny out of his father's hands.

Lincoln chortled at his son's words and ruffled his hair.

"Not what. Who. This is Bun-Bun. My mother got him for me when I was around your age. Before I got him, I couldn't sleep in my own bed, either. I'd always run to my big sister's beds and slip in while they were still asleep. But as soon as I started sleeping with Bun-Bun, I felt like…like nothing could hurt me. That no matter what, he'd protect me from anything. Give him a try. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

Manny looked down at Bun-Bun and grimaced with uncertainty.

"But what if it doesn't work?"

"Trust me, Manny. It'll work. Now then, get off to bed."

Once more, the boy looked down at his new bedtime confidant and gave it a skeptical look. He didn't know exactly how taking a stuffed toy with him to bed would beat the comfort of his parent's warmth but if his father said that it'd help him, he didn't need much more than that.

"O-okay, Daddy. I will. I love you," Manny replied, hugging his father's leg quickly before turning heel to leave the room.

"Love you, too," resounded his father as he watched on as Manny finally left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as he did so.

With his son hopefully taken care of, Lincoln decided to join his wife and sleep alongside her once more. He checked the alarm clock on the dresser next to their bed and moaned once he realized what time it was.

He had to get to work at his chiropractor's office early in the morning and barring any more outbursts, he wouldn't have much time to get his rest.

When he shuffled his way into bed, turning his head into his wife's direction as he did so, he jumped a bit when he found that instead of sleeping like he thought she was doing, she was laying on her side, resting her head on her hand and looking at him expectantly.

To further confuse him, she was looking rather mischievous instead of peeved for having her apparent sleep interrupted.

Her raised eyebrow, her playfully haughty smirk. It was a look that Lincoln knew all too well. His wife had either caught in a compromising situation, that she was bound to tease him about, or he was about to engage in rather salacious activities with her. The fact that she was only clad in a matching yellow set of bra and panties did nothing to keep his mind from wandering to the realm of that pleasurable possibility, though he figured that it wasn't likely.

"In case you were wondering, I was awake long enough to hear just about everything," she confirms with a wide grin.

As if Lincoln's gut wasn't in knots already, the fact that his wife was now privy to his Bun-Bun hoarding made the sensation even worse. He knew that she loved him but there was no way that he was going to get off scot-free with her newfound revelation. There was no way she was going to let him live this down.

Contrary to what he thought she'd do next, instead of poking fun at him, she crawls towards him, inching ever closer until she's lying directly on top of him, her legs framed on either side of her hips. He sweeps her long hair over her back so she can look at her and feels his heart skip several beats when he catches the naughty glint in her eyes.

He wasn't sure what inspired this intimate caress but he sure wasn't going to start complaining about it now. Brazenly, he slid one of his hands up and down the curve of her spine while the other gripped her leg, almost grabbing a handful of her butt. He was rewarded with a soft moan and a slight rocking of her hips and for a minute, he thinks he's avoided her banter, at least for the day.

"How did you manage to stuff your little toy in the back of our closet for all these years without me knowing, by the way?" she inquires with a taunting tone, crushing Lincoln's hopes entirely and causing him to blush far more effectively than their cuddling was since Lincoln was going to have to speak for himself.

He scrambles for an answer as his wife starts to nuzzle her face into his neck. He thinks he has one when he feels a jolt fly through his brain from Ronnie Anne nipping him lightly with her teeth.

"Living with ten sisters taught me to keep things away that I didn't want anyone else knowing about."

She stops her nibbling to look at him again. If Lincoln feels that he's reading her right, then her small smile means that she accepts that retort.

"Fair enough. Now, onto another question…"

His hands freeze where they are when she suddenly appears to look serious, her eyes squinting at him in suspicion and her mouth now fashioned into a tiny frown.

"Did you hold onto it all this time because you don't think I'm cuddly enough for you?"

"What?!" Lincoln blurts out defensively and rather loudly. He panics when he realizes his blunder and quiets down immediately. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

To further befuddle him, she reverts back to being playful, chuckling mirthfully at his reaction. She leans down to peck him lightly on the lips and brings her mouth close to his ear.

"Hmmmmmm…I don't believe you. Guess you're gonna have to prove me wrong, won't you?"

It was Lincoln's turn to chuckle. Prove her wrong, eh? He liked the sound of that. She continues with the teeth nipping from before, this time on his ear. Lincoln revels in the numbing pleasure until he realizes what time it is when his eyes scan towards his alarm clock.

He gently pulls himself away and looks his disappointed wife in the eye.

"Now? Ronnie Anne, it's nearly three in the morning. My shift starts in five hours."

She responds with a shift of her own, a downward shift of her lower body that presses down into the rather evident proof of his desires. She does so again and Lincoln's resolve crumbles to dust.

"Weeeeeeell…" he drawls out, now taking his hands to firmly grasp the globes of her cloth covered rear, "…maybe just for a little while."

"Thought so," she banters with slightly labored breath.

As she reaches back to unclasp her bra, Lincoln hopes that Bun-Bun is being the best wingman on Earth and keeping his son occupied in his room.

 **A/N:** So this is, what, the second story I've written revolving Lincoln Loud helping a relative go to sleep? I feel like I'm almost mocking myself here since I'm always writing at the wee hours of the morning. Sheesh. This takes self-deprecation to a whole new level.


End file.
